He looked at her again. “You may not want to talk to me about what happened with Mark. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone.” He smiled. “Everything is going to be all right, Laura.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Sawyer shrugged. “Isn’t that one of God’s promises?
Something about all things working together for good? I don’t think that means everything that happens to us is good, but that somehow God brings good out of it if we’ll only trust. That’s what I’ve been told, anyway.” He smiled at her again and left the office.
Laura’s eyes fixed on the door.
Trust that God could bring good out of all that had happened to her?
If only she could.
CHAPTER 12
Emma stood at what used to be the front entrance of her grandfather’s workshop. The rain had stopped, but gray clouds cloaked the sky. She held her thumbs together and created a frame, trying to visualize the animal shelter. Adam had given her a diagram he’d sketched out. They would have to get started before the weather made it impossible.
But what about the wedding plans? It was the beginning of November, and they planned to marry in January. Could they do both in such a short period of time?
“Emma.”
She smiled at the sound of Adam’s voice, and a warm rush of love rose up in her. Now that they were engaged, she didn’t even try to hold back her happiness. Grossmammi had given her blessing, saying something akin to “It’s about time.”
Emma turned and looked at him, and all thoughts of romance flew away. His normally healthy complexion was ashen. “What’s wrong?”
“I told mei parents. About the wedding.”
A drop of rain landed on Adam’s light blue shirt. Then two.
“We need to go inside,” Emma said. “I’ll fix us some kaffee and—”
Adam took her hand and led her to the front porch. A crack of thunder split the air. Rain started to pour. “We need to talk.
Out here. Alone.”
“Adam?” She let go of his hand. A sickening lump formed in her belly. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“Nee. Of course not.” He shook his head so hard she thought he might hurt his neck. He took her hands in his. “I haven’t. And I never will. Don’t ever doubt that, Emma. I love you. I will love you for the rest of my life.”
His passion soothed her doubt but didn’t keep the panic at bay. “Is it your parents?” She gripped his hands. “They don’t want us to get married?”
“They didn’t say that.”
“But they aren’t happy about it.”
Adam let go of her hands. “Emma, they aren’t happy about anything.” He pulled back a foot or two.
Distance. He was only a few steps away, but it felt like miles separated them. “I don’t understand. I thought—”
“Emma, this isn’t about mei mudder and vadder. It’s about us.” He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.
Sweating? The patter of rain echoed in her ears, and she felt chilled to the core. Yet he was standing on her porch, pale as paper and perspiring.
“I have to tell you . . . I don’t know how . . .” He swallowed hard. “I promised I’d never hurt you again.”
“Ya, you did.” She backed away from him.
“And I meant it.” He closed his eyes for a moment. Then opened them. They were shiny. Wet with unshed tears. “I’m going to have to break that promise.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to tell you. When I was in Michigan, I . . . I had a girlfriend.”
She clasped her hands and rubbed them together. Had she really expected him not to date when he broke away from the church? Her mind accepted it, while her heart lagged behind.
But even though it stung to hear him say it out loud, he wasn’t hurting her. Not in the way he thought. She went to him.
“Adam, I understand.”
“Nee, I don’t think—”
“I do. Really.” She reached up and touched his cheek. Felt the roughness of the stubble on his chin. “You lived another life in Michigan. You didn’t think you would come back here.
Dating . . . having a girlfriend. It’s only natural.” She forced a smile. “I can’t be the only one to find you irresistible.”
He closed his eyes again. Removed her hand from his cheek.
“I didn’t just date, Emma. Ashley and I, we were serious. We were—how do I say this? Intimate.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open. “You were . . . with her?”
“Only twice.”
“Twice?” She brought her hand up to her mouth. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you have the right to know—”
“I don’t want to know!”
“Emma, I’m sorry. You can’t imagine how bad I feel about this.”
“Imagine?” Her eyes flew open. “All I can do now is imagine. You didn’t have to tell me, Adam.”
“Ya, I did. I don’t want any secrets between us.”
“But now this . . . this thing is between us!”
“I had to be honest,” he said.
“It’s one thing to be honest.” Emma glared at him. “It’s another to throw your maedel in my face.”
Adam went to her. “Ex-girlfriend,” he repeated. “I never loved her.”
“Then why?”
“Because I was stupid. Growing up, we were taught to stay pure until marriage. I know that. But I didn’t care. Everyone does it. I wasn’t even Ashley’s first.”
Her stomach turned inside out. “I didn’t need to know that either.”
“Emma, this doesn’t change anything between us. Tell me it hasn’t.”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Emma.”
“Don’t push.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Adam, please don’t push me. Not on this.” She opened the door and ran inside.
The rain drummed against the top of the buggy. Cora shifted on the bench seat, trying to find a comfortable position that also kept her coat and pantsuit dry. There was no door on either side of the buggy. No windshield to keep the biting air at bay. And nothing hiding the full view of the rear end of the horse, which was only a couple of feet ahead of her.
“I’m sorry we don’t have the winter cover on yet.” Anna tapped the reins on the horse’s backside. It did nothing to increase the buggy’s speed. “It’s been a mild winter so far.”
“Indeed.” Cora brought a handkerchief to her nose. At least she was sitting on the right side of the buggy. Every few minutes a car would whiz by on the left, splattering water and making her grip the edge of the seat. It was minimally padded, with a covering of shoddy velvet. Everything about these people was cheap, backward, and painfully slow.
The buggy rolled through a large puddle. Muddy water splashed on the hem of Cora’s designer pantsuit. “This is ridiculous! I hope you have a dry cleaner somewhere in this town.”
“I’m sure we do.” Anna glanced at her but didn’t apologize.
She returned her gaze straight ahead.
Cora looked at her surroundings. Anything to avoid the back end view of the horse. There was nothing worth seeing.
A few cars, houses, farmland—nothing that bespoke class and stature. As the rain beat a steady cadence outside, she grimaced.
Middlefield? More like Middle-of-nowhere-field.
Pain twinged in her hip. She had left her medicine in her cosmetic case back at the Bylers’. At some point she had to find a suitable place to spend the night. Definitely not here.
“We’ll be at the workshop in a short while.” Anna pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt at a stop sign.
“Define ‘short while.’ ”
“Twenty minutes.”
Cora brought her fingertips to her temple as Anna made a right turn. Twenty more minutes in this . . . thing? Next time she would insist on a cab. Of course there wouldn’t be a next time.
&nbs
p; As soon as humanly possible, she intended to get out of here and back to New York, taking Sawyer with her.
A sudden stench filled the air. Cora looked up just as the horse relieved himself in the middle of the road. Repulsed, she turned away, only to get splashed again by a spray of dirty water.
She couldn’t get out of this dreadful place soon enough.
“That’s looking gut, sohn.”
Sawyer glanced up at Lukas. He smiled, then dipped the fine-pointed paintbrush into a small jar of black paint. “I think after about twenty of these rocking horses I’ve finally figured out how to get the eyes just right.”
“Nothing wrong with a small flaw here and there. That’s what makes them one-of-a-kind.”
Sawyer swirled a bit of black paint on the side of the horse’s head. “That’s interesting, coming from you.”
“Why?”
“You have some pretty high standards, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Lukas chuckled. “And you’ve never failed to meet them.”
Sawyer grinned again as Lukas walked away. His gaze flickered to the office door. Shut, as usual. He thought about his conversation with Laura. He kept reaching out. She kept pushing away. Why did he bother?
But what would have happened if Mary Beth and Johnny had given up on him? If their family hadn’t connected him with Lukas and Anna? If the Bylers hadn’t come all the way to the group home to convince him to live with them?
What if all the important people in his life had walked away when he told them to?
He wouldn’t be painting horses’ eyes in his father’s wood-shop. He wouldn’t have a feeling of accomplishment and, yes, pride when Lukas complimented his work. He wouldn’t belong anywhere.
So he wasn’t about to give up on Laura. Not as long as she was in Middlefield. However long she stayed, he would keep on reaching out to her, even if she didn’t want him to.
A tinkling bell sounded, signaling the front door of the shop opening. Sawyer didn’t look up. Tobias had left an hour ago to pick up an order of cherrywood planks, but Laura or Lukas would handle the customer. Sawyer needed to put the last finishing touches on this eye before it dried.
“Anna?”
The concern in his father’s voice caused him to look up.
His mother walked toward Lukas, her face drained of color. An older woman followed behind her. She was tiny—a good six inches shorter than Anna, yet her presence seemed to fill the entire workshop.
“Lukas . . .” Anna stood by his father’s side.
“What is it, Anna?”
Then his mother did something he’d never seen her do in public. She took Lukas’s hand.
Sawyer put down the paintbrush. He stood. “Mom?”
“She’s not your mother.”
His head jerked around at the commanding sound of this woman’s voice. “Who are you?”
“Your real family.” She shot Anna and Lukas a derisive look. “Blood family. And I’m here to take you home.”
Sawyer’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t know you. And as far as me having any blood family—” He stopped short. Why was he explaining himself to this stranger? He moved to stand by his parents. “What is she talking about?”
“Sawyer.” Anna put her hand on his arm. “This is—”
“Cora Easley.” She walked to him, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. “I’m your grandmother. Your mother was my daughter.”
A sudden roaring filled his ears. “My grandparents are dead.”
“Your grandfather is. But as you can see, I’m very much alive.”
Sawyer’s head spun. “I don’t believe you.”
“I have proof.” She looked around the room. “Do we really have to do this here?” She brushed the sleeve of her coat and sneezed. “It’s dirty, and my allergies are flaring up.”
“That’s sawdust, not dirt.” This woman couldn’t possibly be related to him. His mother had never been snooty and had never been afraid of a little dirt. Every year they had planted a small garden together. He had a sudden flash of memory—a picture of her scrubbing her fingernails underneath the running tap water.
He even had vague memories of playing outside after a spring rain with both of his parents when he was a little kid. They would wear rubber boots and splash in the water and thick mud.
Everyone needed a bath afterward, but the fun had been worth it.
This woman looked as if she’d never seen a mud puddle in her life.
“Mrs. Easley.” Lukas stepped forward, Anna close beside him. “I’m Lukas Byler. Sawyer’s father.”
Sawyer looked at Lukas, pleased that he didn’t hesitate in making sure this woman knew the score. These were his parents now. His family.
Lukas held out his hand. Cora ignored it.
She faced Sawyer. “Can we talk privately?”
“Nee. I have work to do.” Sawyer turned and walked back to the rocking horse. He sat on the stool and picked up the brush. His hands shook, smearing black paint over what had until that point been a perfect horse’s eye. He muttered an oath and tossed the brush aside.
“Sawyer.” Lukas’ voice was low but firm.
“Sorry.” Tension clamped down on his gut like a vise. The walls of the workshop started to close in; the huge room seemed to shrink into a small box around him. If he didn’t leave now, he would say or do something he would regret.
He shot up from the stool. “I have to get out of here.” Without looking at his parents, he rushed right by Cora and out the door.
CHAPTER 13
Cora gripped her Hermes calfskin bag and resisted the urge to throw the four-thousand-dollar purse on the ground. “Is this how you raised my grandson? To be rude?”
“Nee,” Lukas said. He shoved his free hand in his pocket but held on to his wife’s. How touching.
She looked at the woman’s husband. Sawdust covered his clothes, his hat, even his hair and beard. This was what Sawyer had spent his teen years doing? Manual labor? She pinched the bridge of her nose. He should be attending Harvard or Yale.
Even Stanford would be preferable than living with people who dressed like they stepped out of a John Wayne western.
“Go get him.” She lifted her head and faced Lukas.
“What?” Lukas’s dark eyes narrowed.
“I said, go get him.” Cora tilted her chin. If this man thought to intimidate her, he wouldn’t succeed. “And be quick about it.”
The man didn’t say anything for a long time. He stared at her, as if trying to see inside her.
And for a brief moment, Cora Easley was the one intimidated.
Foolishness. She owned paintings that cost more than this shop and house combined. She tapped her foot against the cement floor. A small cloud of sawdust lifted around her shoe.
“I’m waiting.”
“Sawyer will come back when he’s good and ready.” Lukas crossed his thick arms over his chest. “You can wait here if you like. I’ll even bring you a stool if you want to sit down.” He pointed to a tall stool in the corner.
Cora looked at the stool. Like everything else, coated with sawdust. “I’ll stand.” She adjusted the collar of her coat and looked away.
“Suit yourself.”
Cora ignored Lukas and looked at Anna. She hadn’t said much, yet her confused expression spoke volumes.
But sympathy was out of the question. This couple had Sawyer as part of their family—for a few years, anyway. She had missed out on a lifetime. If anyone deserved sympathy, it was Cora herself, not them.
The door to a room in the back of the shop opened. A young woman entered, wearing that white bonnet-looking thing just like Anna, and a hideous plum-colored dress that hung nearly to her ankles.
“Is everything all right?” the young woman asked.
She turned to look at Cora, and the sight sucked all the breath from Cora’s lungs.
Her face was webbed with scars. A thick one ran across the width of her chin. Razor-thin ones crisscrossed her c
heeks. Cora knew she shouldn’t stare, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away. The scars were still pink. Fresh-looking. What happened to this girl?
“Laura,” Lukas said. “Why don’t you and Anna geh into the haus? Mamm should be home. I’m sure she’d be happy for the company.”
He spoke a mix of English and some strange guttural language. German, but not exactly.
Laura nodded but cast Cora a quick look before following Anna out of the workshop.
After they were gone, Lukas took a step toward Cora.
“Now. I believe you and me are gonna have a talk.”
“I—”
“And you will listen.”
His tone had changed, enough to catch Cora off guard.
Laura frowned as Anna took her hand. The woman’s fingers were as cold as ice cubes. “Anna? Who was that woman?”
Anna didn’t look at Laura. She kept moving toward Lukas’s parents’ house next door to the carpentry shop. Anna walked inside without knocking.
“Hello?” Fraa Byler, Lukas and Tobias’s mother, came into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Anna?
What’s wrong?”
“Sawyer’s grandmother.” Anna’s voice broke on the last word. “She’s here. She wants to take him with her.”
“His grossmammi? But I thought—”
“So did we. So did the courts.” Anna slowly lowered herself onto the couch. Fraa Byler sat down beside her.
Bewildered, Laura stood at the edge of the living room, unsure what to do. The fancy woman in the workshop, the one who had blatantly stared at Laura when she came out of the office, was Sawyer’s grandmother?
“Tell me what happened, Anna.” Fraa Byler glanced up.
“Laura, please. Sit down.”
Laura perched on the edge of a wooden chair near the couch as Anna explained how the woman, Cora Easley, had shown up at her door a couple of hours ago.
“She demanded to see Sawyer. Said he was her grosssohn.”
“Is he?”
“I don’t know. She says she has proof.” Anna’s eyes dampened. “I have a feeling she is telling the truth. There’s no reason for her to lie.”
The Middlefield Family Collection Page 31
